Merry Christmas
by EddieIrvine
Summary: A family gathering in the 1st Age Tirion, supposing they have something like Christmas. Warning: I don't know much about Christmas, having never been in the tradition of celebrating it, and this is unbeta-ed.


Disclaimer: I wrote this out of love for the Silmarillion. I do not own the characters and do not profit from it.

A/N: Being the 2nd piece in a 30-topic challenge: idle times. The 1st piece was unfortunately written by me in Chinese...My mind likes to switch back and forth between two languages: something really bothersome when it comes to writing stories. I wish someday I could finish the challenge...sigh...

There was no winter in Valinor, the exact reason to which was forgotten. Maybe Yavanna herself prohibited it so she could grow wheat for whims and pleasure at any time of the year. Perhaps the Valar deemed the long nights incompatible with the fixed waxing-and-waning schedule of the Two Trees. Or it was simply too bad a season for Valinor in general. But an Endóressë - especially a small one - will probably ask: where, then, would have been all the fun of winter like throwing snowballs and piling up snowmen and simply slouching off while a blizzard was shut outside the door? The charm of Valinor would seem much diminished considering the High Eldar might have never heard of these activities.

But don't worry. Valinor was bliss itself, and it snowed in Valinor at those times even as now, for at every turn of the year, Manwë would blow down from his cold dwelling the purist hexagonal ice-flakes of the top of Oiolossë.

Today was New Year's day, and today happened to be a snowy day. Mindon Eldalieva looked exactly like a gigantic scone covered with suger. As to the twin fir trees before the royal palace, greenness peeked out here and there in tiny patches amid heavy layers of snow. There was no way you step unto the ground in moccasins - the snow rose higher than your calf.

King Finwë, as anyone expected in such weather, was nursing a steaming mug of tea in his favorite armchair beside the royal mantelpiece. Oh such enviable comfort! He waited for his sons to arrive, but Queen Indis was so impatient she went to fetch dear Nolofinwë and Anairë at their home. There was really little else to do. Dutiful Arafinwë sat with Earwen on his right hand, chatting quietly but merrily and the king was content just listening. Eyes inevitably strayed to the window, for his firstborn quite busied himself there. Fresh evergreen leaves already hung in a ring on the panel, and little six-petaled white flowers bloomed brightly, giving out fragrance to the whole room. He brought new curtains as well, deep blue cloth draped with sapphire and amber and inlaid with lucent gems like the innumerable frosty stars on a clear night down in Calacirya. The curtains were drawn at present, so King Finwe could see Nerdanel and her sons in the yard. How the little ones darted! Moryo got his hands on a lock of Turko's pretty silver tresses; the latter squealed and broke away to seek refuge behind a rather bored-looking Káno, to whom Nelyo shrugged and laughed.

'Part of the royal guards should have been left here, to sweep the snow away,' suddenly Finwë heard a delightful, clear voice and footsteps approaching. Fëanáro had just placed the last beeswax candle on the windowsill and turned around. Soon, the dark-haired couple emerged at the doorjamb, and with them the golden-haired queen wrapped in a fine silk brocade cloak trimmed with feather. The whole room seemed to lit up at her arrival to reveal a perfect, happy, family gathering.

'Don't speak as if you truly mean it, Arakano,' chuckled the queen in her mildest manner, passing the unfastened cloak to her son. 'Everyone deserves a holiday, and I could not possibly have been put off by a little trudging.' Finwë smiled at this and rose up to greet them - but he stopped short.

'Surely not, when only half the servant are interested in obeying a half-Vanya and less than half a pure one, and someone cannot even keep her handmaids from going back to Valmar.' The voice was as light and keen as Nolofinwë's, a little more fluid and much less pleasant.

King Finwë stood frozen halfway between the door and the window. He nearly groaned: so much for the thought of a happy family gathering.

'You would have done better even by simply ignoring them.' In an effort to appear harsh, the king kept his back turned while speaking, but those words were hardly what he had planned. It was unfair, thought Finwë miserably, that his own guilt should allow his son to get away with spoiling his enjoyment on such an important occasion. Indis came up and squeezed his hand in silent support - blessed be her!

He could touch something in the air ever after his sons' return from Alqualondë, an unwelcome change. He had carefully watched over them during their perilous youthhood, precautioning against any chance of conflict. Thus the cool sentiment of Fëanáro towards his step-family had never gone beyond the normal disregard and occasional tantrums. Now why should it start worse, when what he should have seen was a married, responsible grown-up? Finwë had no idea as he hugged his daughter-in-law. 'You might as well disregard my firstborn.' He added pathetically.

Nolofinwë peeled off his gloves and went to open the window, where Fëanáro still stood in silence. Finwë prayed good luck for him.

'I do plead guilty for signing all their leave-forms, in case it has caused you any inconvenience,' smiled the second son, and continued despite earning a darkened gaze. 'But in a family, any member may perform service for another. Alassëa Hristomerendë, Fëanáro.'

No reply. Could it be the calm before the storm?

'I cannot agree more,' suddenly cut in a cheerful, fruity female voice. No one could say for how long Nerdanel had stood around the corner and how much she had seen, but she shot a meaningful glance towards the window. 'It is such pleasure to see your family again. My friend Anairë, Alassëa Hristomerendë!'

The ladies embraced each other warmly. Up came also Nelyo, Káno, and young Findecáno with either hand in one of theirs. The smaller boys trailed around their brothers' legs. Then Turko ran over, crashed beneath the table, and came out from the other side with a leftover garland above his head.

Finwë exhaled in relief. He watched Fëanáro walk towards his armchair in silence,snatch the garland from Turko on the way, and pat the child's shoulder in slight reassurance. The king's untouched tea had cooled off by now, but his son took out glass cups and a bottle of eggnog from the rack,and began pouring for everyone.

'Oh, why not play one of your new carols now, Makalaurë? There are many people so we can sing it together!' asked Findecáno in the bright, innocuous way of children while accepting his drink from Nolofinwë's hand.

'Of course!' answered Káno, striking his ever-present harp, and one by one, the family fell into singing.

-Fin-


End file.
